Free Raisonne Curse by Rinda Elliott Page B

reflection and it hit her that she didn’t know what she was going to do if this didn’t work. Pryor’s first try with the head wash hadn’t—that much was obvious—but after seeing his hands, she didn’t know if she could take advantage of him again.
    The still, shadowy figures from her dream came back to her. Pryor was young—around thirty, like her—so it was unusual that his father and uncles were all dead. She’d tried to remember the pictures and couldn’t remember one with a set of older brothers.
    Did the magic eventually kill them?
    The image of Pryor’s blistered hands came back to her. She’d have to leave. Find another way to deal with this stupid curse because if she caused something to happen to that beautiful man or his brothers, she couldn’t live with herself. Maybe Audrey would find that shaman she’d read about and he could do something for them. Feeling better with that decision made, she left the room and made her way across the yard, carefully watching for random roots. The haunting cry of an egret echoed somewhere out over the water. She looked that way and shook her head. Last night, the place had been terrifying and today, all was peaceful and gorgeous.
    He’d told her to walk on in, but she still hesitated at the top of the steps at one of his back doors.
    Silence greeted her inside before it quickly filled with the sound of whispers. Harsh, guttural voices that carried such a heavy weight of sorrow, their misery threatened to crush her. A shudder ran through her body and she hurried through the house.
    “Pryor?”
    He didn’t respond to her call, but the whispers grew louder. All the hair on her body stood as the weeping started up. Her heart felt like it would break.
    Such unbelievable sadness was trapped in this place.
    Elita squinted into the bright light streaming through the two slim windows on either side of the front door. She gripped the wooden handrail. “Pryor?” Her voice echoed up the stairwell, blending with those of the Bernaux ancestors.
    The cacophony of voices, this symphony of misery and fear, made her skin prickle and her heart ache. “Pryor?”
    She heard the faint sound of a shower.
    And immediately imagined his hard body, muscles slick with water.
    Clenching her hands into fists, she backed away from the stairs. Having sex with that man was probably not the best idea—not when she had to leave. Not when she still didn’t completely trust him. But she’d never wanted a man this badly in her life. He would make her sweat even in the coldest Boston winter. And her body had never acclimated to those.
    Maybe what he’d done for her would be enough to lessen the curse.
    If she didn’t let herself think about the crazy of the night before. It couldn’t have been a hand wrapping around her ankle. Couldn’t have been.
    She had to leave. Today.
    And do what? Go back to Boston? Be a struggling waitress for the rest of her life? Alone?
    If she were to be completely honest, she had to accept that she’d missed this place. Missed her family. And yeah, missed the basin. It was like she’d left a part of her soul here. Everything that made up who she was came from here. The food, the way of life, the people.
    One of her regular customers in Boston spoke French and her heart had stuttered every single time. She’d thought of asking him to teach her, but the words weren’t the same. Cajun French was like a whole other language at times. But one similar phrase and she’d been pulled back to her favorite season here. The spring, when life bloomed like magic every year.
    Elita heard the washer ding and walked to the spell room. She put the load of clothes, including her shoes, into the dryer and went back to the kitchen. She looked out of the window over the kitchen sink and stared at the trees, the moss…
    Hell. She wouldn’t be going back to Boston.
    Yes, this place was in danger and yes, it would break her heart to watch the disappearing swamplands, but she